


White as Snow, Sweet as Sugar

by xiria14



Series: Behind Closed Doors [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Feminization, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Slow Build, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiria14/pseuds/xiria14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Part of my collection Behind Closed Doors: The answers to different challenges and request about my favorite threesome, sometimes all together, sometimes in other variations, who discover the many different pleasures of the flesh</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Where Jon challenges both Theon and Robb with silk and velvet, and finds out he likes it</p>
            </blockquote>





	White as Snow, Sweet as Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_blonde_mermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_blonde_mermaid/gifts).



> This work has already been posted once in a multi chapters work, but I wanted to reedit this baby so as to give it its own work independence!  
> It was an answer to the ASOAIF Kink Meme prompt:
> 
> Robb/Theon/Jon; Crossdressin (Anonymous 2014-06-14 03:29 am (UTC)  
> Theon always teased Jon about how he would look good in women' clothing. Robb usually stand for Jon but one time, when drunk, he agreed with Theon.  
> Jon, just to prove a point, steals Sansa' clothes and dress up, showing up in the room of a very drunk Theon and an equally drunk Robb.  
> What started as a game, develops into something Jon would've never expected but that he clearly enjoys.
> 
> (If canon or modern is up to the writer)
> 
>  
> 
> First, I want to mention that I tried at first to keep it to the challenge. But I might have had too much fun writting it and I have strayed slightly. I hope you still enjoy!
> 
> Second: Neliore has already answered this challenge, and quite brilliantly at that. Some parts are lightly inspired from her fic I want To Be A Girl Like You! Read it!  
> By the way, I have a HUGE list of prompts I want to fill. I rolled the dices to pick out what would be next and laughed at the coincidence of picking Neliore's prompt a few days after I Want To Be A Girl Like You got out. It's fortunate I had wanted to do it canonical to begin with
> 
> Third: English is not my first language, but I really love it and it is definitely something I want to improve greatly. If anyone picks on mistakes I do, please tell me. I'd like to get better. For this fic I have tried to better my verb tenses and the "S" I always forget to put when using a third person. I hope I got better at it!
> 
> Enjoy!

It started when Jon was barely 13, fresh out of childhood. He was still in that awkward zone between a child’s plump softness and a young man’s sharp edges. Lady Stark had refused him the use of a barber, as Robb and Theon had the privilege to do. So his black curly hair had grown in a long nape which reached his shoulders. Many a drunken men had started to leer at Jon in a way far from proper. Some even made comments about his more than fair looks. Jon had wondered about the reason behind such conducts and sayings, not knowing if it were japes or something. He might be good looking, everybody had always said so, but for Lady Stark, who despised him so much that she would look dagger at anybody who dared praise him in her presence. Although Robb too was good looking, just as Theon, in his own, cocky way, only Jon had been prey to this weird behaviour from older men.  
He had felt self-conscious, wondering if maybe he was wrongly dressed or something. Robb and Theon hadn’t been able to answer when he asked them if he looked weird, although Theon always had a smile at that, and told him that he just looked like a bastard. A pouty bastard, as he’d say at the sight of Jon looking down while he pursed his lips unhappily.

Yet he had lived with all this uneasiness, brushing it aside to busy his mind with sword fighting or excelling in his studies.

Yet it had come as a surprise when a visiting lord had told Lord Stark that he had the fairest daughters of all, most of all, the one with milky skin, nice red lips and a great mane of dark curls. Although he didn’t understand why they had dressed her like a boy. Jon could not remember exactly who had been the most shocked and outraged by this comment. All he could remember is looking down in shame, feeling his face go hot as his ears were filled by the loud laughs of one Theon Greyjoy.

* * * *

Theon has never left Jon alone since then. There would always be a jape ready on his lips, stretched in his usual, trademark cocky smile.

“No wonder you’re so easy to beat down, Snow, sweet girl. You would sure do better to trade your sword and your shield with a needle and an embroidery work.”

“You’re always so slow, Snow. It must be because of your feminine completion.”

“You’re late again, Snow. It must be because of all the time it takes to fix your hair.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood Snow? Are you having your moon blood soon?”

“You should go to the brothel with me next time, Snow. You could sure teach the whores there how to pout.”

These comments usually had a tendency to make Jon’s blood boil in his vein, and his gut clench in a weird way that he has always associated with anger and powerless frustration. But they were not the worst, far from it. Somehow, the worst were the ones which struck straight on his moot points, piercing straight on the target as only Theon could do, archery and jesting alike. 

“This dress is lovely, don’t you think Snow. It’s a shame you’re not the one wearing it.”

“The red on her lips clashes in an awful way, right Snow. You’re lucky you don’t have that problem with yours.”

“That one is pretty with all these fine ornaments in her hairs. I’m ready to bet they’d look more striking in your hairs, Snow.”

“She dances like a troll! Snow, go teach her a thing or two about feminine grace!”

“Look at that gown, Snow. The color and the cut are so perfect. The only thing missing to make it perfect is you in it!”

Jon would blush fiercely at these comments, which still made his gut clench painfully hard in boiling frustration. Thankfully, although there was no answer he could find to shut the Ward up, Robb would always stick to Jon’s side and tell Theon to shut up, which he always did. 

Until yesterday.

* * * *  
“But I swear, Snow would look great in a woman’s dress. I’m sure he would be as pretty as Sansa.” Theon said drunkenly, looking Jon from his feet to his hair while balancing a cup of wine in his hand.

“Shut up, Theon.” Robb said, mirroring Jon’s blush, although it was not because of sharing the same anger as Jon felt.

Four years since the visiting lord had told Lord Stark that his daughter with the dark hairs was the prettiest he had ever seen, and Theon had still not dropped the jest. Jon was seriously starting to feel like there seriously was something wrong with himself. Sometime he took longer than what was really needed in front of the mirror, contemplating with critical eyes how the years had made him slender, of a leaner constitution, with still some hint of a child look on his soft cheeks and plump lips. But it was definitely not feminine. Not _that_ much.

At least Robb had always stood on his side, never pressing on the matter, reassuring Jon that he fought well and acted like any young lord their age. He had never expressively told Jon that he looked like a girl, or hinted at it or anything. But all of that had always been said while sober. And yesterday, the Heir of Winterfell, future Warden of the North, was far from sober.

“Come on, Stark. I’ve seen the way you look at Jon, the way you blush when him looking like a girl is mentioned. You totally think that he would look good in a dress, don’t you?” Greyjoy slurred through a voice heavy with drink.

“You’re wrong, Greyjoy!” Robb said, voice as drunken as Theon. 

Only Jon had drunk less alcohol, feeling just slightly fuzzy. Jon felt a surge of great affection rise for this brother who kept supporting Jon and defending him. The feeling was totally crushed as said brother opened his mouth again, and out of any exhibition, uttered something Jon would have never believed if he hadn’t been here himself. 

“He’d look even better than Sansa in a dress.”

* * * *

Jon had felt gobsmacked at his brother’s words. His own brother! Yet he had betrayed Jon and their cherished brotherhood, all over Super Cocky Theon Fucking Greyjoy. That, more than his comment, had hurt. Although, a really small part of himself had still felt proud about his brother’s praise. 

Feeling angrier than ever, Jon had left the Ward’s room, leaving the two other young men at their drinking. Robb had tried to call Jon back, calling his name with a sorry voice, but all Jon could hear was yet again the loud, resonating laugh of Theon Greyjoy. 

Yet, maybe because he did drink some alcohol himself, Jon had come with an idea of his own. A mad, really mad idea. For years, Theon had made fun of him about how he looked like a girl, how he’d look great in a woman’s dress. Yet, he had never actually seen Jon in one. Maybe if he was finally met with such a sight, the Ironborn would laugh it up and realise that the notion was ridicule, that Jon does not look like a girl.

That’s how Jon found himself in front of the door to Sansa’s room. He looked right and left to make sure that nobody was there, that nobody could see him do something so improper. If Lady Stark was to learn that he had gone into her precious daughter’s room, he would certainly suffer a great deal. Fortunately, at this hour, nobody was there. He had made sure that Sansa was well into her lessons with Septa Mordane, and had excused himself from sword practice with the excuse of a sore stomach. Of course, Theon had to make a jest.

“Come on, Snow, if you knew you were about to have your moon blood, you should have stayed in your rooms!”

With his plan well in mind, Jon had only gritted his teeth and left with as much honour as he could muster, feigning to not notice it when Robb told the ward to shut the fuck up. He pushed the door to Sansa’s room, spotting right away the closet in which her dresses must be. He wasted no time in opening it up, and swallowed the lump which had formed in his throat at the sight of so much rich material at once. Slowly, he extended his hand toward a blue dress, Sansa’s favorite, and relished the feeling of the rich silk under his fingers. It was so soft! No man would dare walk around in such material so soft it was. Yet, all Jon could think about was the feeling of so much silkiness over all his body, and he swallowed again. 

Hesitantly, he moved the blue dress aside and looked up and down a dozen other dresses, all softer and more richly adorned than the other. His eyes stopped at the only black robe Sansa had, the one made for funeral and mourning. The cut was simple and the velvet material soft, yet Jon wasn’t sure he would feel comfortable wearing a dress Sansa had wept into, a dress which had such a bad connotation to it. He looked all over the wardrobe to see if there was anything better, and felt excitation run through him when he saw The One. It was a dress of dark grey velvet with long, white silk sleeves and which skirt’s was artfully cut so as to show an underskirt of the same white material. Lilac satin ribbons were sewn on the corset and where the grey velvet met the white silk. There was a slight stain from Arya having thrown a strawberry at it just under one breast, which might explain why it Sansa had stopped wearing it. But Jon didn’t mind such a small matter. Beside, in the less well lit room of Theon, nobody would see that. 

So Jon pulled it off from its hanger and pulled it on the bed, glad of his choice. The dress would suit his eyes as well as his pale completion, it was of a size near enough from his own, maybe slightly tighter, and Sansa would not miss it, maybe not even notice its absence. He glanced back at the closet, then at the drawer beside it, and blushed as a forbidden thought crossed his mind. Should he be dressed as a girl under the dress too? Robb and Theon would not know. Yet, Jon felt like the disguise would not be complete without it. Besides, he would try it only once, so as well do it right, isn’t it? Maybe he could even tease Theon with the sight of him in girl’s underwear, traumatise the Ironborn further so that he would never dare to jape about Jon’s ladylikeness or lack off again.

Blushing like never before, Jon walked to the drawers and opened it. Wow! If the dresses materials were soft, it was nothing beside the material which went under it. First, he touched the silky sock, relishing the feel of it under his hands. The thought of the material over his legs made his groin twitch in a pleasant way, imagining the ghost of it on the smooth skin of his legs. Again, he was lucky. He found a white pair which seemed to be big enough for him, and which was simple enough to nearly look plain. He was not sure about the underpants though. Should he really put one? Sansa was bound to notice it, and there would be no end of shame if somebody found out he had went that far in his disguise. Jon sighed. Better not!

So he went back to Sansa’s bed and took back the dress, walking in front of the mirror with it and pressing it against him to have a last minute confirmation that this would do. He was ashamed to admit to himself that the dress would definitely suit him in a perfect match. It was as if it had been done for him. 

Just then, he heard a loud sound coming from behind him, soon followed by a gasp. Cursing the Gods for being born with such a bad luck, Jon turned over and blushed even further at the sight of Sansa looking at him in surprise, an empty coil of thread in hand.

* * * *

“Is that really necessary?” Jon mumbles through Grit teeth as he feels a brush press against his shut eyelids. He as to restrain himself from opening his eyes due to some reflex as the brush keeps moving over his sensitive eyelids. 

“Well, it’s not me who asked you to get in my chambers and go through my clothes. MY own _private_ clothes!” The way she stresses at her last statement makes Jon wince in shame. She does have a way to make you feel like a naughty little boy. Even more so when you actually are!

“And for the thousandth time today, I tell you Sansa, I’m really sorry! I swear it was just this once, I’d never do that again!” He utters with his most apologetic tone of voice. As he does so, he feels a brush press against his cheeks, his eyes now finally done. 

“You are lucky you have nice, thick lashes. You won’t need the kohl. That one can get _sooo_ messy, I know!” She mutters knowingly while looking with narrowed eyes at her work. 

“Come on Sansa! There’s no need to go that far.” He whines with a voice so pathetic he’d cry in shame. The thought of Sansa having to redo her work makes him feel worst.

“Well, you wanted to disguise yourself as a girl, you’ve got it! Now purse your lips, like when you sulk. _That_ shouldn’t be so hard!” She says with her best gloating voice, eyes sparkling dangerously. Really, people get it wrong when they think that Sansa is sweet and all nice beside Arya. She’s just better at hiding the wolf in her. And Jon now knows that if you don’t want to see Sansa’s wolf, you ought to stay clear of her precious belongings.

Although her comment stings, he still purses his lips, letting her apply some small dabs of red on it. At least the stuff smells good, and is of a good enough quality that it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, as he discovers when he rubs his lips together. Hmm, the feel of it is actually quite nice, he thinks with great shame. Oh, will there be an end to his descent into degradation. 

“Please, tell me it’s finished, Sansa!” He voices lamely as she looks at his face critically, looking at her work for any imperfection. He’s really glad for the chair on which he sits, seeing how shaky his whole body feels because of the horror of it all.

“One more complains and the deal is off! I swear, you whine worse than Arya when we try to make her look like the young lady she actually is!” She groans with annoyance.

Jon swallows as he recalls the deal he has agreed to with her. She gave him the choice between coming back to her room after the evening meal and letting her prepare him for his great show, or having her let Lady Stark know about Sansa finding him in her chambers, rummaging thought her clothes. Actually, she hasn’t let him any choice. He would definitely come back and let himself be pampered like a girl rather than have Lady Stark know about her husband’s bastard doing improper things in her daughter’s room.

He has barely been able to get anything down his stomach so fretful he felt at the thought of what would happen this evening. He gulped more whine than he did food, and has felt fuzzy ever since. Yet the alcohol has helped him remain calm through the whole dress up, Sansa’s back on him as he pulled on the knee-length white socks, as well as a small breech made in a soft silk which sensuously caressed the sensitive flesh of his rear and his whole groin. Covered in the white underclothes, Sansa turned around and helped him with the dress, unable to quell her raging blush and her small giggles. His fight was different as Jon felt for the first time the caress of the silky material fall over his whole body, embrace his every edges and curves in a firm yet so lascivious embrace. He found it harder and harder to not get jealous of women’s clothing. 

After the gown came the dark grey shoes, small and a little bit tight for his feet, yet totally fitting with the dress. Then Sansa made him sit in front of her dressing table, and proceeded to comb his hairs and arranged them so that the ones in front but for some wild locks would be attached to the top of his head with small ornate silver pins while the ones behind would simply cascade on his nape. Once satisfied, Sansa applied the makeup.

And now, as Jon takes a great intake of breath which makes the dress cling snuggly around his chest, he sees Sansa backing off from him and looking at her work with a satisfied smile. After all the time it took for her to prepare him, Jon dares hope the result is satisfying. 

“Stand up so that I can look at you.” She orders him gently. 

Jon is no fool. He won’t argue against her, not now that he knows how dangerous she can get. So he stands up and watches as her smile widen and her eyes soften in the same way it does when they look at something she finds particularly beautiful. He cannot resist it any longer. He walks to her mirror, the same one which has been witness of his earlier humiliation, and finally has a look at himself. And oh my, it is a look! He cannot believe how his slender, more edgy body is totally embraced by the dark grey velvet, the high waist and ample skirts of the dress creating the illusion that he really has some hips. Some laces on the chest even give the impression that he has a small breast. He’s never seen a woman with hairs as short as him, yet his curls fall in such a graceful way, helped by the tiny, sparkling silver flower pins that only a woman could pull it off. As for the makeup, Sansa has been so light with it that Jon barely sees the difference. Yet here it is, a more enticing softness to his cheeks, his eyes looking slightly more doe-like and piercing with the light purple powder, and his lips begging to be ravished with their hue a tad redder than usual.

“It’s a pity you’re not really a girl.” Sansa sighs behind him. He turns around to look at her, minding the way the smaller shoes force him to take smaller step so as to not have his feet crushed by them. Sansa looks in total adoration for her work. “It would be more fun to dress you up than with Arya!” She adds with longing in her voice.

All Jon can do is nod at her, then frown as he realises what he’s doing. But it’s too late. Sansa is now beyond her usual adoration look. Maybe it would be better to go now, Jon thinks to himself.

“Thank you, Sansa, for the help. I think I’ll go… now…seeing how late it really is.” He says while taking small steps to the door, thanks to his restraining shoes. That’s one thing he would never trade against his well-fitting, looser boots. “I’ll give you back everything tomorrow!” He adds as he opens the door to the hall.

“No need for that, Jon. They are gifts. Just give me back the hair pins when you’re finished with them. Oh, and hide the clothes where no maid will find them!”

He’s shocked by so much generosity, and thanks Sansa profusely as he closes the door behind him on his way out.

Now, it’s showtime. Theon will be so gobsmacked by Jon as a girl that he’ll definitely leave him alone! Maybe Jon could also play the card that even as a girl, Jon is still hotter than Theon.

* * * *

It still takes him a good two minutes of standing outside Theon’s room to grab the door handle, face aflame and his heart beating as madly as if he has run twenty laps around the castle rather than walked the two halls separating Sansa’s room from Theon’s. Walking around with all these girly luxuries has felt the most pleasurable experience he has ever had. His whole body felt on fire by the exquisite caress of the softest silk and velvet pressed all around him. His manhood strains against the confining short breech under his dress, the soft material caressing it, his balls and his sensitive rear at every step he makes. 

At this hour, he totally expects Robb and Theon to be in there, drinking from the small reserve of strong wine Theon has managed to sneak away from the cellar. They invited him to join them earlier, at supper time, but Jon told them No and sulked in his corner, dreading the actual performance he’d do later. 

Some sounds of laughs echo down the other hall, not far from Jon. Somebody’s coming, and he’d better not find Jon there and take him for an actual girl. So Jon reaches for the door handle and let himself in, avoiding at the very last moment being seen by the passersby. Still facing the door, though from the other side, Jon breaths great gulps of air to reassure himself. Then jumps as he feels a hand grasp his shoulder.¸

“What are you doing here, sweet flower? Somebody scared you off?” A voice he knows too well asks gently from behind him, the hand pressing gently on his shoulder in a reassuring manner. 

Oh by the gods. It really is happening. He’s really about to show himself in a woman’s attire to the young man who has tormented him for years about how much he’d look great in it. Jon is taken by sudden doubts. Maybe it’s actually a really bad idea. Theon will laugh harder at him for having actually tried it. And seeing how much Sansa has been enthusiast about the disguise, how even he has to admit she did a great job with it and he really looks like a girl right now, maybe it’s not a good idea after all to show himself to his greatest tormentor, who would have the confirmation that he has been right about his jest for years now.

“hey, it’s okay, pretty lady. Nobody will hurt you here.” Theon adds when he sees that Jon is frozen on the spot, still facing the door, thus back on him. 

“He’s right, milady. We won’t hurt you. Whoever scared you off, we’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again.” Another voice says from behind him.  
Robb sounds so innocent in his honorable assumptions. And oh bloody hell! Why is Jon still acting like a girl in distress? He has just realised how much he must look like one as he entered the room urgently and pressed himself against the door, seemingly having hidden from a pursuer or somebody who scared him. He’s reputation as a girl would now follow him until the end of his life, or Theon’s if he does kill him before out of annoyance. He turns around; ready to hear their laughs resound in his hears. 

He doesn’t expect their gasps of shock, nor the way they are now looking at him with a mix of surprise and total appreciation. Robb has barely looked at the dress that his eyes have found Jon’s and he’s now looking at him in surprised wonder. As for Theon, he visibly swallows as his eyes look up and down Jon’s sumptuous dress, taking in the way the dress embrace his every curves and edges, then finally end at Jon’s face, cheeks flushed with more than just the wine. His blue eyes burn with something Jon could only describe as desire, overwhelming the recognition Jon sees in them.

“Well, you’re quite a sight, Lady Snow. I knew you’d look great in a dress!” He says after a long hesitation in a seductive tone, his cocky smile finding its way back on his lips. 

“Don’t say it like that, Greyjoy!” Robb snaps harshly, looking at him with annoyance. He turns his eyes back on Jon, then swallows loudly. “You really are…a sight, Jon. You look really…pretty.” He adds in a hesitant yet charming voice.

Jon finds himself gobsmacked. He has not expected the two other young men to fall in his strings. First he wanted to show them how much the notion of him in a woman’s attire was absurd, that they were wrong in thinking that it would suit him so much. Then, when he saw himself in the mirror, and discovered for himself that he was actually quite nice in woman’s clothing, he wanted to show the other men so that they would be gobsmacked and would finally shut up. He has never expected them to start praising him or act like they were…interested.

“I think I’d better go. I just wanted you to see… that … me in a girl’s dress is absurd. You were supposed to find it funny, nothing else.” He tries to say as he turns over to grasp the door handle. He’s surprised when he feels two hands grab him from behind, one on his shoulder, just over the white silk, press there firmly, but tenderly, while the other grab his wrist in a firm embrace. 

“Stay!” Two voices say in unison.

Jon feels all kind of flustered by the warm contacts, the firm hold made pleasurable by the soft material brushing on his skin. What is happening to him? Has the woman’s disguise changed the way his brain works too? He sure has drunk too much alcohol for his near empty stomach, and he sure feels giddy by his whole new experience, his body caressed like never before by all these womanly softness. But does this make sense that he’s feeling so flustered?

His head leaning against the door, gasping for breath, Jon feels the hand on his shoulder tighten, and feels weird at how it brings him more pleasure than annoyance. The young man to which it is attached get closer and press firmly against his side to run the back of his fingers along his jaw then grasp his chin gently but firmly and turn his face toward him. Theon looks at him with the expression he usually reserves to the women he tries to seduce, oozing confidence and charm from his every pore. It somehow makes something flutter in Jon’s chest, which already feels jittery by the contact of the soft velvet all over it. He feels himself blush in something else than embarrassment. 

“It would be such a waste to go now, after all these years wanting to see it. Why don’t you come sit with us and tell us how it feels?” He whispers seductively, still caressing Jon’s chin, his blue eyes piercing Jon’s grey ones and making him feel weak in the knees. Him being some inches taller than Jon confers him a certain dominance over him, and it’s funny how for the first time, Jon feels a small part of himself wanting to submit to the most seducing man of Winterfell. 

“Don’t worry, Jon. We won’t hurt you. We just want to have a nice time with you, like when we drink and chat and have fun together until we don’t know if it’s late night or early morning anymore.” Robb says from behind him, he’s voice shaking in its pleading tone.

Jon should go. He’s sure that whatever will happen if he stays, it’s nothing he has ever dared think about. Yet he has gone through all the trouble of getting the dress, and getting in it and suffering through Sansa’s deviousness. Maybe they are both right. Maybe it would do him some good to just go sit with them, sip some more whine, and have the laugh of his life as he tells them how it feels to be dressed as a girl. 

Eyes closed, he nods shakily his head, which is still held by Theon’s fingers. He doesn’t know what to make of the two relieved sighs he hears from behind him. He simply let himself being led toward the bed, following meekly as two set of hands grab him by the shoulders. It’s only as he walks again that he realises that he’s still hard from all the caresses on his groin and backside by the silky garment. A small moan escapes his lips at the realisation, and he looks down as he feels two set of intrigued eyes settle on him. 

“Are you okay, Jon?” Robb asks with concern in his voice. 

They reach Theon’s bed, and Jon is led to seat between the two taller men, his knees brushing against theirs. He doesn’t know any more if sitting down makes him feel better or not. All he can think about is the pleasure and arousal coursing through his veins as his body keeps being caressed and embraced by the silky material.

“Seriously, Jon, are you well?” Robb repeats, even more concerned. Jon is so glad to have such a good, caring brother. Not all bastards have this luck, as Lady Catelyn has impressed on many an occasion. 

“Yes Robb. I’m just feeling giddy because I drank too much wine, and the dress is feeling, like, really good on me.” He says through a voice thick with arousal. He should really go take care of himself in his rooms, Jon thinks with some point of distress. He’s glad for the many layers of fabric which hides his tensed groin. His boy’s breeches and tunic would not be much to hide his erection right now.

“Does that mean that our pretty Snowella is feeling hot and bothered under her dress?” Theon asks as he runs his hand slowly and teasingly over Jon’s stomach, pressing his hand against his groin to ascertain Jon’s shaming arousal. Jon grasped the wards wrist just as he feels the pressure increase on his cock, but it’s too late to conceal it, the Ironborn already knows, as the sparkling in his eyes and the widening of his smile indicates. “My, my! I would have never guessed that wearing a girl’s dress would put you in such a state of lust, Snowella.” The new surname feels weird to Jon’s ears. He doesn’t hear the same bite in them that he’s used to when Theon calls him Snow. Rather, it teases him in a more seducing way, one which makes his gut warm in something other than anger. Something which would rather rhyme with danger.

Jon lifts his eyes to look at Theon’s, pleading him. For what, he doesn’t know, or doesn’t want to dwell on it. But the ward seems to understand right away. He smiles ravenously, one hand still on his straining cock, as the other caresses again his jaw and his chin, grabbing it firmly between thumb and index. 

Jon doesn’t know what to do when he feels warm lips against his own. He can still taste the strong alcohol on Theon’s ones and the feel of the slight burn on his lips makes him crave for more. He barely registers the surprised gasp coming from behind him as he loses himself in the sensation of him being kissed for the first time, lips pressing against his in sometimes soft caress, sometimes firm with a hint of ferocity. Theon definitely know what he’s doing, as he teases Jon’s lips, alternating with small kisses, then grabbing one lip between his own and pulling firmly toward him, or biting it lightly, or running his thong teasingly so that Jon would open his mouth wide open. Theon would keep teasing him, never giving into Jon’s wish to have his mouth explored by his thong. It’s only when he moans in frustration and grab Theon’s cheeks in his hands that the other man relents and deepens the kiss, his tongue doing things to Jon’s which makes him moan in rapture. 

Jon doesn’t expect it when he feels a hand grab his shoulder while another moves aside the cascade of locks falling on his nape, neither does he expect the kiss there. But he certainly enjoys it. Just as he enjoys the way this other mouth trails shy, then increasingly more confident wet kisses all along his nape and shoulders, sucking some sensitive skin between strong lips. As one of his hand take support on the bed and his other one take hold of Theon’s shoulder to deepen their kisses, two sets of hands roams over Jon’s body holding and caressing his waist, or later his upper harm, then sliding over his collar bones, or caressing his thighs through the different layers of sumptuous fabric. He doesn’t recognise any longer to whom belong the hands as his mind go blank with pleasure and raw need.

He moans when Theon’s mouth leaves his, the both of them gasping for breath as their lungs are quite empty. As Jon gets the needed air, Theon starts to kiss his way down his chin, then his throat, where he suck some bruises there. Jon barely has the time to moan a second time that another set of lips attack his. How come? He knows it is Robb’s lips, which are kissing him in a less expert way than Theon, but with such hunger and fieriness that Jon can only open up for him and kiss back with as much passion. 

As Theon’s kisses keep getting lower and lower down his chest and his stomach, Jon comes to the realisation that while he was lost in Theon kisses, his body has been manoeuvred in a laying position, back on the mattress with his spread knees slightly lifted. Robb is now lying on his side, beside Jon while they’re kissing, his hands roaming from his cheeks to his throat, then his shoulder in a tender caress, while Jon’s are tangled in his copper curls. And Theon is now on top of Jon, or between his spread legs. Jon is too busy kissing Robb back to figure out where Theon is and what he’s doing. 

Theon lifts one of Jon’s legs to free his foot from the tight shoe, then gasps as the skirt shifts and reveals Jon’s leg wrapped into the snug, white knee-length silk socks.

“By the gods, Snow. You sure don’t do things halfway!” Theon exclaims in a voice filled by arousal and mirth. “Look at that, Robb! You have never seen such a sight.” He adds in a gleeful voice, knowing perfectly well that Robb, hasn’t ever been with a woman, and has never seen feminine underwear. 

Jon wants to hold his half-brother back so that they keep kissing, but Robb’s wish to look at Theon’s discovery must be stronger. He blushes until he’s sure he’ll get purple as Theon grasps his other shoe and throw it dismissively behind him, then lifts the hem of the skirt and move it up until Jon’s entire legs and his crotch are exposed. All the while, Robb, who’s now seated beside Jon, is looking mesmerised at the feminine undergarments he has never been able to look at before. The look in both other men’s eyes are so hot that Jon feels himself suffocate warmly in the confines of the heavy dress, sweating feverishly as he tries to swallow through his dry throat. 

“Oh, Jon!” Is all the red hair man manages to say before extending a timid hand toward Jon’s tight, caressing the soft flesh there. Jon has a spasm as the hand makes contact with his aflame flesh, then shudders with pleasure and desire as it takes confidence and start rubbing it in small circles.

“Look at what I’m doing, Robb! I’ll show you how to get even the most recalcitrant wench to beg for you.” Theon says in a tone of voice oozing so much arrogance and mirth that Jon would have kicked him in the nose on the spot. But just as the thought crosses his ablaze mind, it is crushed by the sudden pleasure of having a mouth kissing his leg, starting at the heel of his right foot to then trail wet, ravenous kisses up his leg, all the while massaging firmly the silk clad flesh and muscles. Jon shudders intensifies at that, then he gasps lustfully as the hands knead his upper thigh and teeth bites the inside softly but teasingly.

Jon feels a change of pressure on the mattress beside him, and sees Robb move toward his spread legs, getting just beside Theon. Jon moans in rapture as another set of lips discovers his other leg, giving hungry, opened-mouth kisses and licks through the silk while caressing softly with the tip of his fingers the sensitive skin inside his tights. In no time, Jon finds himself with his legs well spread, one hooked on Theon’s shoulder as he still bites and lick the inside of his thigh, while the other one is slightly bent toward Jon and held firmly there by Robb’s hands while he still gives hungry open-mouthed kisses and licks on the inside of Jon’s other thigh. His normally untouched legs shivers uncontrollably under so much stimulation and Jon keeps emitting low whines and small moans, fearing that he would soon spend himself. He blushes as his nose catches the strong scent of his own arousal, and moans as he looks down and see two heads moving between his legs, so close to his damped small short. The fabric there is so thin and delicate that Jon can see clearly the dark pink head of his cock in transparency where the tip has smeared precome. 

“You see, Robb, how a few licks and caresses to a girl’s legs makes her wet her pants and become desperate? Now she’s more than eager to let you get her out of her pants, isn’t it Snowella?” Theon asks with a knowing smile which makes Jon’s gut warm with anger and lust both.

“Shut up, Greyjoy!” Jon groans, his throat feeling dry. 

He keens in pleasure right away as the ward gives small pecks on his silk covered manhood, from the root to the top, then opens his mouth on the head and gives a gentle, teasing bite. Fists clenched so hard against the sheets that his knuckles actually hurt, hips raised off the bed to press more insistently against Theon’s mouth and his whole body shaking, Jon gasps in a silent scream at this new, painful but so pleasurable sensation. Mercifully, or not, Jon feels the mouth leaving his groin not too long later, sparing him the shame of ruining the luxurious garment.

Jon feels the strings of the small breeches being pulled and untied, and then fingers slip under the waistline and hesitate there. It takes him a while to realise that the sounds he hears are small pleas coming from his tight throat, and he curses himself at how much of a lusty mess he’s become. Seriously, being in a dress has totally wrecked his mind. And why does it take so long for Theon to get the small garment of his groin? He’s been lifting his hips for a while now to encourage him. Yet nothing happens and it totally frustrates him.

“I’ll let you the honor, Stark!” Theon says in a generous voice, removing his hands from Jon undergarments, eliciting another pleading whine from Jon, which makes the cocky smile of the ward widen further. Robb looks at Jon, then at the small white garment, which is about to be seriously ruined by Jon’s juice. Yet the heir doesn’t move. He just contemplates the sight with hunger, yet with shaking hands and a fierce blush on his cheeks. “Come on Robb, stop looking and act like the man you’re supposed to be. 

Jon is this close to tell the ward to shut up, fucking Greyjoy. But Robb takes that moment to snarl, and then take a hold of Jon’s hips harshly to press his fingers under the waistline. In hurried, hungry moves the heir proceeds to remove Jon’s small breeched, thus exposing his most private part to the cool air, which he doesn’t feel so hot are the two other men’s hungry glare on it. As Robb bends Jon’s leg over him to remove the damp garment from his heels, Jon realises how much of a sight he must be, with still the white socks on, with his dress lifted over his hips to expose his tensed, leaking virility. Jon suddenly feels like a fish out of the water, under the burning sun, so hot he feels and so out of air he is. He silently pleads for the other men to do something to him, anything as long as it sooths the fire burning in his belly. Again, Theon takes the initiative over the two shy virgins. He grabs Jon’s heel in his hands and bends his legs over his chest, doubling him over and exposing his privates further. 

“Are you scared of what you see Robb?” Theon asks while still looking hungrily at Jon’s exposed privates. Seeing the look of hunger in Robb’s eyes, not even Jon has a doubt about Robb wanting whatever happens next. 

“No, I’m not.” He answers Theon in a low, hoarse voice, his eyes still focused on Jon’s private parts. 

He now extends his hand toward Jon’s manhood and softly caresses it up and down with the tip of his thumb. Jon shudders at this caress, and next thing he knows, he’s straining against Theon’s restraint of his legs, his hips trying to press harder against Robb’s hand as he emits small needy whines. His half-brother seizes his testicles in one hand, handling them as delicately as if it was a fragile young bird, then takes hold of his manhood and starts wanking Jon. Jon moans like a whore at that. He has waited so long for this!

“It’s good to not be shy about touching a girl with such assurance, Robb. But our dear Snowella is not far from her release. Maybe you’d want to try something more…lewd…on her before she spends.” Theon says while looking with insistence at Robb, who seems clueless for a small while. 

Then Theon licks his lips, slowly and in a way which let no equivoque about what he meant. He cannot be thinking about that, Jon thinks, both surprised and pleased by such a thought. He finds himself totally craving what Theon just suggested, yet feeling ashamed of his wish for his own brother to do it. His small shame seems to not be shared with Robb, seeing as he licks his own lips, then lower himself to get his mouth on Jon’s manhood. The first few kisses are far from expert. Yet they make Jon keen and shudder against Robb. Who gains confidence rapidly as he seizes Jon’s hips and restrains him from thrusting his hips too harshly. As Robb finally engulf Jon’s whole length in his burning mouth, Jon spasms and his mouth opens in a silent scream. Robb bobs his head and barely has the time to thrust Jon’s manhood in his mouth three or four times that Jon sees stars and comes like never before. His spasms are so violent that it takes both set of hands pushing him against the mattress to avoid him choking Robb. 

When Robb finally release Jon’s spent and now oversensitive cock, looking at Jon with a look hot as a fire forge, there’s a small leak of Jon’s seeds running down his chin from the corner of his mouth. He makes sure Jon is looking at him before he smiles and swallows hungrily what Jon has spent in his mouth. Both Jon and Theon moans at the deviously sexy sight, but while Jon remains sprawled on the mattress, feeling boneless, Theon grabs Robb by the hairs and kisses him ravenously, barely leaving the heir’s mouth to lick the trail of come on his chin. The sight of the two handsome young men kissing like mad and enjoying his juices makes Jon’s cock twitch in interest, but he knows he’s too spent to do much more than this. 

Yet he wants to kiss his brother too, or Theon again, or both if possible. Jon moans a pathetic whine from the back of his throat, drawing the attention to himself again. Both men look at Jon breathlessly, some spurts of messy whiteness still on corners of their lips. That’s more like it! 

“You’re such a naughty girl, Snowella, to crave all the attention of men.” Theon japes with a wink to Robb. 

Who smiles back at him before looking back at Jon with desire still burning in his eyes. Jon looks down, and realises that the both of them are still fully dressed, with both a matching bulge at the groin while Jon is totally exposed from the waist down. Jon opens his mouth to tell them to undress, but Theon lunge on him in the same moment to kiss him hungrily. And there’s still Jon’s semen on his thong, and Jon is totally tasting it, and liking it. His request completely forgotten, Jon opens his mouth and kisses Theon back with as much passion. It is not long before desire burn in his gut again. By the time Theon’s mouth leaves him again, the taste of Jon’s seeds is but a memory, and Jon’s cock has already started filling with blood again.

“What do you think we play a more serious game, Snowella?” Theon asks Jon, his mouth mere inches from Jon. 

Jon doesn’t understand, and look at the ward in confusion. Until Theon moves one hand which has been holding Jon’s shoulder, and let it run down his chest and belly, and groin. Jon arches himself against it, craving for more of the caresses, and Theon chuckles at this lustful behavior. And then his hand travels down, past Jon bawls, and one finger gently rubs against his entrance. Jon moans so loudly, so lustfully, that he nearly feels ashamed of himself. His cock hardens fully, and his hips thrust against the finger, hungry for more of this newfound kind of pleasure. They shouldn’t indulge in such an improper act, Jon knows. Yet it feels so good, and they have already done so much. He’s in a dress for god’s sake. It cannot get much worst.

“Will we…?”Robb tries to ask, but swallows in embarrassment instead. Theon flashes a look at Jon, sharing with him an intent glare. He doesn’t need to ask. He just nods at Robb, who licks his lips.  
.  
It’s so wet down there from Jon sweating profusely from the warmth of the room, and the massive dress on him as well as the fire coursing through his veins, that Theon has no problem breaching Jon with the tip of his finger, thrusting it in and out, again and again. Jon spasms again, the pleasure there so intense that he gasps in both lust and surprise. Jon looks at Robb and Theon, who are now seated between his legs, looking intently at Theon’s finger in Jon’s ass. The heir still blushes as if embarrassed, looking with fascination at the novelty, while Theon looks concentrated at his work, smiling in delight each time Jon squirms, or moans in pleasure. And both men are still fully dressed, which has to change.

“Get your clothes off, guys! Please, I want to see you!” Jon says with the most inquisitive voice he can manages, seeing as a finger is still trusting in his most private part, eliciting flutters of pleasure to run through his rear and his belly. 

Theon and Robb look at each other with a smile.

“Snowella is becoming quite bossy tonight! She must want us really bad!” 

Jon is gobsmacked. He has expected something like that coming from Theon. But it’s not the ward who said that. He is actually smiling in delighted surprise while looking at Robb, his finger now motionless in Jon. No, it was Robb who said it, somehow more confident at the sight of Jon totally debased under them. Jon notices that it doesn’t feel the same when it’s Robb who calls him Snowella. Jon might feel some point of annoyance when Theon calls him that, yet it’s him. Everything he has ever said or done toward Jon has always set a burning clench in Jon’s gut. Calling Jon Snowella makes it feel as if the burning, tightening feeling in his gut merges into something else, something more warm that he can’t define. Something it doesn’t do for Robb. 

Yet he doesn’t dwell on it much, seeing how his needy hole craves for more caresses. He starts thrusting his hips back and forth, impaling himself harshly on Theon’s finger. He bits his lips to muffle his needy moans and whimpers, but it doesn’t stop the other men from chuckling at his antics. 

Robb is the first to undress, totally in a hurry to get out of the warm cocoon of his clothes. His body, a fine definition of strong, buffy muscles and hard edges, shines from all his sweat and the red of his growing body hairs. His hard manhood fits with his tall, strong body as it’s also long and gorgeously thick. Thick enough that he already feels somewhat uneasy to think about when it will forces its way in his small, unused hole. Jon feels a certain edge of envy at the sight of such a manly body. He sure looks like a ferocious wolf, both in mind and body. His own has not yet developed as much as Robb’s. Jon sure has started working some muscles in his arms and his upper body, but his figure remains lean and nothing near manly enough for him. Seeing how well he can pull off looking like a girl, it seems like he would have to work harder to look like a real man. Yet a part of him enjoys being able to get in a dress and seduce other men. He likes all their tender attention. 

“Go take care of your clothes, Greyjoy! I can handle it from there!” Robb says in an authoritative voice, already looking like the Lord he’ll have to be in some years. 

He walks back toward the bed and retakes his position, leaning over Jon and kissing him fiercely while a change of finger is made in his entrance. The gestures are less experienced, yet they ease in rapidly into fast, hard thrusts which send Jon’s mind reeling with pleasure and desire. He moans in Robb’s mouth, craving for more, please more. 

A clanking sound near the door makes them both startle and look over in panic. Have they been discovered in such a compromising situation? Oh the hell they’ll be in! But no, it’s just Greyjoy looking at them from there, lock put on the door. For one moment Jon feels irritated at the ward for having scared them off for so little. But it is soon forgotten when he sees the body of the Ironborn, which is also slicked with sweat, yet his skin is paler than Robb’s, milkier. His musculature is more delicate, more elegant than Robb, yet no less manly. And then he sees his cock, leaner yet longer than Robb, with a purplish head peeking out of the small hood of skin there. Jon feels himself salivate at this sight. He has seen the naked body of the ward on many a occasion, what with them sharing baths in the hot springs after their sword practice. Yet it is the first time he looks at this body with the knowledge that it would soon be over him…in him. 

“What was that all about?” Jon asks with a voice thick with lust, swallowing as the Ironborn smirks at him.

“I didn’t want anybody interrupting us. We’d have to share our dear Snowella!” Theon says in a delighted, smug voice, walking toward the small cabinet beside the bed with as much ease as if he was parading in royal garbs. For him it might as well be 

“You seem to have become possessive of me, Theon. Have you become infatuated with the dress? Maybe I should leave it to you before I go back to my chamber so that you could still have a prey to seduce!” Jon japes with a quirk of the brow. Robb chuckles lightly, his finger immobilised again in Jon as he watches the exchange between the heir and Jon. 

Theon’s widen in slight surprise, then his lips stretches in a smile which shows white, pearly teeth as he looks down at a drawer he has just pulled open 

“But I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your best charm, dear Snowella! A flower with no petal is such a sad sight!” He chuckles as he retrieves a small bottle of clear liquid. 

Jon smiles slightly at the jape, then blushes furiously and swallows the lump forming in his throat at the sight of said bottle. He can guess what it is for, and the fire in his gut spread to his whole body at the implication that he would soon be fucked. A small part of him feels scared, and embarrassed at such a notion. But another, greater part, feels trilled at the notion of soon knowing the pleasure of having his ass stretched and pounded by a cock, of feeling ravished by a man’s strong body. Is this how a maiden feels in the moments before she gets fully bedded by her husband? Jon could only guess! 

“Come on, Sweet flower! Why don’t you turn over so that we get you all wet for us?” Theon asks while pressing on Jon’s hip to urge him to turn over, which he does reluctantly, not wanting to be fucked like a common whore. 

Yet the soothing caresses of a hand rubbing gently his hips, then his back and his nape make him relax into his new position. He slumps on his chest and forearms as he spreads his legs wide open and arches somewhat his back in an attempt to make things easier. He gasps as strong hands stretches his legs even wider apart, cool air hitting his burning, sensitive entrance. Jon hears a long gasp and a sigh coming from behind him, and presses his cheek on one arm as he looks over at the two other men. 

Robb is looking at him as if star struck, clearly surprised and pleased by the decadent sight of his first lover’s exposed entrance. He licks his lips, eyes narrowed in shy hunger. Then Jon looks at Theon, and squirms under the mesmerized look of the man who has have so many girls that he can’t count, the man who seems so pleased by what he’s seeing that he nearly looks dumb with his hungry eyes and frozen smile. The moment is short lived. Theon soon looks down as he uncorks the bottle, and then smears some of the liquid on his fingers. He then hands it to Robb with a small order to get his fingers wet with the slippery liquid too. 

Jon squirms again as he feels a finger press back against his hole, rubbing the skin slightly before breeching him again. He’s already loose from Theon’s and Robb’s fingers, yet it feels amazing now that the finger is inching in and out without any trouble, slicked with more than just sweat. It isn’t long before another finger joins the first, entering him smoothly, albeit more uncomfortably, into Jon’s hole. Yet the languorous, teasing thrusts can only belong to Theon’s, and it isn’t long before Jon starts to moan in total bliss.

“See, Robb, how it doesn’t take much to get a girl to squirm and moan in lust for you?” 

The ward says smugly, eliciting a small chuckle and an amazed nod from Robb as he’s looking at where his best friend’s fingers disappear in Jon. Jon has an itch to kick the Ironborn. But the other man’s fingers suddenly shift in him and press against something which makes Jon’s whole body convulse. His eyes widens in surprise while his mouth opens in a loud, lecherous moan while the most exquisite pleasure explodes in his groin and ripples through his whole body. What in the seven hell is that? 

“What’s happening to him?” Robb asks, clearly having no clue as to why Theon is suddenly laughing in delight while Jon is a mess of shudders and moans.

“That, my dear Robb, is what really makes a girl go mad with lust. Once you’re deep inside her, you just have to shift yourself and press against this sensitive spot toward her belly for her to scream like a bitch in heat and beg for more. Isn’t it true, sweet Snowella?” 

Theon taunts as he presses mercilessly his fingers against Jon’s sweet spot of bliss. Jon cannot answers, so busy he is to gasp for breath, and then moans again and again as shudders wrack his body. 

“I want to try it, Theon! Move over!” Robb voices with impatience. 

Theon laughs become louder as he removes his fingers from Jon’s shuddering ass. Jon is sure it could get lethal the way he blushes, feeling a mix of anger from the laughs which have haunted him for years, the shame of being compared to a whore, as well as the indecent pleasure he feels coming from his hungry hole. He whimpers as his hole becomes empty, but croons when a soothing hand caresses his bottom cheeks. Not long after, two other fingers get in his hungry hole and start thrusting into him, searching and probing. This time Jon knows what to expect, yet he still shudders in pleasure and moans when Robb finds his sweet spot, caressing it with more and more confident firmness. 

Jon’s impossibly hard cock leaks like a small fountain as bliss booms and booms again in his groin. He won’t last long if they keep poking him there. He already feels his balls tightening in anticipation of his near release! More of these stimulations and the other men won’t get to fuck him. It’s surprising how Jon is disappointed at such a notion. Theon must be reading his thoughts, or else he knows how to look because the next instant he’s pushing Robb away while telling him to stop it. Jon whines as his gasping hole is again left empty. 

“Now, Snowella is ripe for the taking! One more thing and we’ll claim your maidenhead.” Theon says in a voice so full of lust and sensuality that Jon’s body urges are to arch his back lower to expose his rear in an even more enticing way. _Take me_ , he nearly begs, _please!!!_

He gasps in surprise as something hard and cold press against his throbbing hole, then penetrates it. Jon looks behind him in confusion, wanting to see what the ward was up to. But all he could see is the abashed expression of a flustered Robb and the grin of an aroused like hell Theon. Then he feels something cool and wet fill his ass and gasps in surprise as he realises that Theon has dared insert the oil bottle in him and is now emptying its content in him. Yet there’s something definitely hot in this gesture.

“There! All wet for us, sweet girl!” Theon says with mirth while he pulls out the empty glass bottle with a wet Plop. “Who goes first, Robb? You want to breach a maidenhead for yourself?” Theon asks the young heir, who is still virgin after all, just like Jon.

Jon hears Robb mumble his assent, and then feels him grab his hips and press his cock against his wet hole. His huge cock! How could have Jon forgotten that not so small detail. He surprises himself when he squirms away from Robb’s grasps.

“No! Please not Robb first!” He yelps in panic, looking behind him at the two other young men. 

Robb seems hurt, harboring the expression of a kicked puppy while Theon is shocked by Jon’s statement. Jon feels really bad about his outburst, yet it’s his first time too, and he doesn’t want to mess things up.

“I’m really sorry Robb! I want you to fuck me, I swear. But you’re bigger, and… I don’t know, it seems safer if Theon goes first, get me used to it before you come.” 

He says while grasping the hand of his half-brother, hoping that he will understand. Robb seems a little bit relieved, although he still has the eyes of somebody who has just been presented with a great meal to then have it snatched away just in front of his nose. Theon looks between them with hesitation, then settles his eyes on both their cock, seeming uneasy for the first time of the night. 

“I have an idea, if you both agree. Maybe I could go first, while Jon takes Robb in his mouth. It would get Jon to be used both by the fucking and the size of Robb’s cock!” Theon says with hesitation.

The way he says his name rather than Snowella makes Jon realises that he has thwarted their game with his outburst, and he feels totally guilty about it. Besides, he somehow misses the unique nickname, which for once doesn’t feel as degrading as the real implication of Snow. He looks at Robb with hope, wishing dearly that the young man would agree to the bargain, and is glad to see him smile. He smiles back at him and pat the mattress in front of his head, inviting the boy to sit in front of him.

Robb seems enthusiast at the idea of getting Jon’s mouth, more so seeing as he’d get to his ass later. He pads over to where Jon has invited him and sits comfortably in front of Jon, his legs well spread as he supports himself on his arms. His big cock protrudes from his groin, leaking precome in abundance, and Jon licks his lips at the challenge it would be to take such a great manhood in his mouth. He licks it from the root to the top, feeling pleased at the discovery of the sweet salty taste of the musk there crossed with the salt of the sweat. Soon he’s wrapping his lips around the head, minding that his teeth don’t go in the way, and then he lowers his mouth on the manhood, trying to engulf all what he can. He has some trouble breathing at first, but then he feels a soothing hand on the back of his neck and hears Theon talking behind him.

“Breath slowly through the nose, Snowella! Yes, like that! Good girl!” 

The ward praises Jon as he lowers himself over his back, pressing kisses over his shoulder blades as his hips meet Jon’s. The head of his cock rubs up and down against his wet entrance, smearing more slickness over it, before it presses more insistently against his prepared hole. The pressure there intensifies greatly, until the pleasure this place has brought to Jon gets overwhelmed by pure, searing pain. Jon feels some tears pool at the corners of his eyes so sharp the agony feels down there, but it helps him to concentrate on Robb’s cock, circling the head with his thong then swallowing as much as he can to muffle his whines.

The head of Theon’s cock finally overcomes the resisting muscles in Jon, and breaches his hole open as it settles in Jon’s virgin channel. He could cry of relief over the knowledge that he has finally been breached. The rest should go more easily from there! But as soon as he has thought that, Theon’s cock starts to press against Jon’s hole again, but to get out this time. After a small pressure, it’s out again, leaving Jon outraged and confused. He wants to turn around and ask Theon what he thinks he’s playing at, but Robb chooses that moment to tangle his fingers in Jon’s curls and keep him low on his shaft, nearly choking. The repeated encouragements to slowly breathe through his nose and the caresses over both his scalp and the back of his neck by both men have reason of Jon, and he soon finds himself calming down and slumping between the two men. 

Theon presses his cock against Jon’s entrance again, the pressure over it still painful, but Jon pushes in his muscles and with his effort and all the wetness in him, the head gets in again, more easily and less painfully this time. It’s only when Theon pulls out again that Jon understands what the ward is doing, and he lets himself relax totally as he keeps on sucking Robb. Theon keeps getting the head of his cock in, then out of Jon, then in again, and out again; going always a tad bit further before pulling back. Before long, Jon’s opening is well stretched and welcomes Theon’s intrusion with some newborn pleasure while the pain diminishes to a low buzz which is slowly transforming in intense bliss. 

When Jon’s hole is totally lax and Theon meets no more resistance from pushing in or out, the ward starts moving his hips steadily, getting always a tad bit further into Jon’s ass. The pleasure gets so intense from this slow exploration that Jon starts pushing back in his hips to meet Theon’s thrusts, impaling him further and further on the wards cock. He’s surprised when his buttocks meet Theon’s hips with no further resistance, no further pain. He has to hand it to him; Theon really knows how to have good sex!

As Theon starts to give full-length thrusts in Jon, he himself starts to swallow Robb deeply in his mouth, matching the rhythm of it to the one happening in his backside. Or trying to, seeing as Theon seems to want him to go mad with lust, alternating between long, hard steady thrusts and fast, shallow ones, always in such a way that Jon becomes dizzy trying to figure out what will come next. And then, he starts hitting Jon’s sensitive spot, once each some amount of thrusts. Each time, Jon shudders and moans through his full mouth, great net of drool leaking from the corners of his mouth. It seems like Robb is losing patience seeing how he grabs Jon by his hairs and forces a rhythm in his mouth, getting always deeper and deeper, until Jon has his nose in red pubic hairs. He gags slightly at that, but remembers Theon advices about breathing calmly through the nose and before long he’s totally lax against Robb, eyes fluttering closed as a rough hand cards fingers through the hair on top of his head, messing up Sansa’s work on his hair and eliciting some shivers of pleasure there. 

Jon moans louder and louder around Robb’s cock as Theon hits Jon’s special spot more frequently, harder, and faster. His thrusts are becoming so forceful that Jon is now hitting his forehead against Robb stomach at each thrust, the cock in his mouth anchoring him in place. Jon’s whole body is on fire now, his groin a burning pool of pleasure which increases until pleasure ripples through his whole body. Jon has never felt anything like that before, even out of his best wank. He can only marvel at the discovery that having his ass ravished and plundered by an experienced man is the most exquisite sensation he has ever felt, more so when he was still covered in the soft silk of a dress. He still feels exhilarated at the feel of the luxurious material tight against his chest and snug on his legs when he squirms and the fabric caress his over-sensitised skin.

“Come on, Snowella! Come for me my sweet girl” Urges Theon while nipping at Jon’s exposed shoulder, and then he bites at his nape, like a dog would his bitch. 

It’s primal how it sends a jolt of intense pleasure through Jon’s groin and cock, and the next time Theon’s cock hits Jon’s special spot, it all becomes so intense that his vision goes white as something explodes in his groin and he convulses through the most exquisite orgasm he has ever felt. His manhood has not even been touched that it explodes in great spurts on his stomach and the inside of the skirts of the dress, while his hole clenches again and again around Theon’s cock, each contraction making Jon tense over so much the bliss is overwhelming. 

When his vision comes back to normal, Jon’s head is resting against Robb’s thigh, his unspent cock looming over Jon’s eyes. Theon’s whole weight is crushing Jon under him, the Ironborn gasping loudly for breath as his hands caress Jon’s side, his cock still in Jon. He feels a small kiss being pressed tenderly over his nape, straight over the bite Theon has given him. It makes Jon shudder some more with something more intense than the pleasure which has just wrecked his body. His chest grows warm. Well warmer, as he feels something flutters in it, like something his blooming in there that he can’t name. He just knows that it’s something which belongs only to Theon, and the way he has made Jon feel this whole evening. 

He barely feels it when Robb gently dislodges himself from his seated position in front of Jon, guiding his head delicately on the mattress so as to not hurt him as he changes position. Jon could nearly fall asleep right now, if not for the knowledge that Robb has not finished, that as promised, he would get to fuck Jon. Theon must know it, because the next moment he sighs and rolls from Jon’s back, then sits on the edge of the mattress to let Robb have some room. Jon tries, he really tries to arch his back and regains some composure for Robb. But he feels so boneless from his smashing orgasm, not to forget that it was his second, and he feels so heavy with fatigue and drowsiness, that all he can do is remain slumped on his chest and arms, still propped on weak knees. Fortunately, Robb doesn’t seem to mind, as he grasps Jon’s hips and level it in front of his cock, then starts to push. There’s still a small twinge of pain in his entrance from this greater stretch, but the bigger cock gets in, and a little bit like Theon has done for him, starts to thrusts gently in him, getting slightly further each time so as to get Jon used to the stretch in a more progressive way.

Jon is so relaxed that it takes barely a few of these thrusts before Jon is opened enough to let Robb thrust as he wishes. He still feels some pleasure at this more imposing stretch, more so when Robb angles his manhood so that it would again hit his special spot. But Jon knows that the pleasure won’t build into anything more and his spent cock barely leaks some more clear fluid then rest limply between Jon’s legs, totally spent. So Jon closes his eyes and rests his head against his arms, happily letting Robb possess his ass. It isn’t long before Robb spends himself in Jon, so aroused he has been by all this evening’s discoveries that it doesn’t get much friction to end him. He groans and yelps like a hurt dog as he tenses and splatters Jon’s wet inside with his warm cum. He too, slumps over Jon, boneless. 

Jon is nearly sleeping, Robb’s breath having progressively slowed and lulled him into drowsiness, when he feels a hand carding through his hairs, then pulling at something. He looks up to his side, and sees that it’s Theon with his smug smile, looking at Jon with something…almost fond. Something which makes Jon’s chest flutters even more warmly. In his hand, the ward is holding something small and shiny. It takes a moment for Jon’s fuzzy mind to remember the small pins Sansa used on his hairs to get them in place. 

“I’m sure you’ll feel even better once we get you more comfortable, sweetie!” Theon mutters as he picks more of the small pins from Jon’s hair, and deposit them gently on his small cabinet. 

Jon lets him work, revealing into the bliss feeling of somebody else caring about him after his bones wrecking orgasm. Theon caresses his hair, combing them with his fingers until he’s sure nothing else is stuck in them. Jon think that the Ironborn would stop there. After all, nobody wants to wake up in the middle of the night after being pricked by a small hair pin in the nose. But to Jon’s surprise, Theon is far from finished. He opens up his eyes again when he feels something cool and wet rub against his face. Right! The makeup! He has totally forgotten about it. Yet Theon is cleaning it gently, showing more care about Jon’s comfort that Jon would have thought. He somehow has the feeling that Theon is not always that considerate with the women he beds. Yet he does for Jon. It makes him feel all kind of woozy to think about him.

“It was kind of you to come to us like that tonight, Jon! It had been so long since I’ve wanted to see you like that! I’m glad you did, and I’m glad you let us enjoy you.” 

Theon says with his cheeks blushing, totally awkward at praising someone or showing him or her gratefulness. That’s when it hits Jon. Nobody has ever done something like that for him. He might have money for whores and a good fumble there and there with an easy wench, which is why Theon always looks smug and content. But when Jon think about it, nobody apart from Robb has ever had special attentions toward Theon, giving him what he wants. Even if Jon has dressed like a girl first to ridicule the notion of him looking like a girl, and then to gobsmack him so that he would leave him alone when he has found out that he actually looked great as a girl, the fact remains that tonight must have been something akin to a dream come true for Theon. 

Theon, who refuse to look at Jon’s eyes as he moves on the bed to get behind him. Still with gentle moves, he pulls at Jon’s legs, and then to his confusion, pulls at the socks to free his legs from the garments there, removing them as he caresses Jon’s exposed skin. 

Jon turns his head to look at Robb, who he thought was fast asleep after his first night of sex. But he’s actually looking at Theon intently, his expression unreadable. It nearly looks like concern, but for Theon? Then his eyes fall on Jon, and it is weird how Jon feels like Robb is conveying through his glare both his gratefulness toward Jon for this night, and a hint of something aggressive and threatening toward him. He looks again toward Theon, who is now rubbing his wet clothe against Jon’s cheeks and thighs, then against his sore, slippery entrance. Then he looks back at Jon again with narrowed eyes, and then closes them as if asleep. 

This is interesting, Jon thinks to himself now that he gets some understanding of what Robb is trying to make him understand. Theon chooses that moment to tug at the laces of Jon’s dress, which is now all wet and clinging from all his sweat. Jon doesn’t know if he’s surprised any longer at Theon’s gentle attentions. He simply lets the other man handle him as he gets the heavy dress off of Jon. 

When at last Jon’s whole body is naked and cleaned, he lets his exhaustion wins over everything else and falls asleep, barely noticing it when Theon draws the covers over them three, and press his shoulder against Jon’s. He totally doesn’t think as he wraps his arms around the other man and presses himself snugly against him.

* * * *

When Jon finally wakes up, feeling all kinds of groggy and blissfully good, it takes him a good moment to realise that he’s all curled around Theon in a tight embrace. His arms are wrapped around the Ironborn’s chest, while he has one leg curled over the other man’s legs and the top of Jon’s head his nested under Theon’s chin. It is funny how for once in his life, Jon feels totally good with it. It reminds him of when he was little and he would sneak in Theon’s bed because he was the only grown up whom Jon could turn to if he had a nightmare. It had all stopped when Theon started his jest about Jon looking like a girl, but now that Jon has some of it back, he realises that he has greatly missed this thing they had. 

Jon remains in the tight embrace for a long while, awake yet drowsing happily against the other man’s warm body. He smiles and shivers as fingers cards through his hair and massage the top of his head, near the root. He looks up after a while; feeling overwhelmed by the look Theon is giving him. 

“Had I known it would take only a dress to make you act all kind with me, I would have done it years ago.” Jon says with a small, lazy smile.

“It’s good you did it now. I was running a bit short of inspiration about japes for you!” The Ironborn teases with his small, cocky smile. 

“Well, if you lay off the whole bastard thing and bring down the girl japes to a minimum in public, I could give you more of what we did last night in the future.” Jon suggests with some hope. 

“As you wish, sweet Snowella.” Theon japes with a delighted smile at the prospect of what Jon offers.

The kiss they share is filled with promises of a better future.

They don’t see the small, happy smile of the third man who is totally _not_ sleeping behind them as they share some lazy kisses.


End file.
